


What can wait

by Salamandersickfic



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Caretaking, Common Cold, Fluff, Fluffyfest, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Sneezing, but with love in their hearts, shuri and nakia troll T'challa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 14:39:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14138127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salamandersickfic/pseuds/Salamandersickfic
Summary: Slightly post-film, T'Challa is a little under the weather. Nakia and his sister tease him, but fondly. Nothing but fluff here.My official headcannon is that viral illness is very rare in Wakanda due to all the amazing tech. They have great vaccines for serious illnesses, but the common cold is still an occasional occurrence. Because it suits me for hurt/comfort purposes.





	What can wait

Bright lights from Shuri's tech desk reflelct on the glossy ceiling of her workshop. T'Challa leans back in his chair and gazes up at them. He isn't prone to fidget, but his sister Shuri has been working on the claw extensions to his suit for half an hour now. She insists he must be wearing it while he does it. There is only so long he can sit and stare at the top of her head. Besides, other things are making it hard to concentrate. He wrinkles his nose. 

“Shuri, can you hurry this up?” He asks.

She tuts at him. “So impatient, my brother! Greatness takes time.”

“It isn't the time-” T'Challa manages, then draws an abrupt breath and sneezes, cat-like, into one shoulder. “Excuse me.” He murmurs reflectively. 

Shuri flinches back and drops a component she was holding. It skitters across the floor. T'Challa is grateful for the distraction as she scrambles to pick it up, because he has to sneeze again- 

“H'PPtsh!” Sharply, flinching towards an armoured forearm, and again- “uh-PPtsh!”

He raises a hand to his nose and finds his claws extended. They glint, lethal-sharp and an inch from his face.

“Carefull. You're going to slice it off.” Shuri raises an eyebrow.

“Good. Maybe it will stop bothering me.” He retracts the claws into his suit and uses a knuckle to worry at the bridge of his nose. A ticklish cough climbs in his throat. 

His sister watches this slight display with a critical eye over folded arms. “What's wrong with you? Are you getting sick?”

T'Challa laughs. “Nothing is wrong with me. Continue. I am finished, I swear.”

Shuri shrugs. With a pinching gesture to the air she summons a hologram of the section she was working on. Her brother settles back into the chair and surrenders his right wrist to her once again. He closes his eyes. Truth is, the irritation is still there and an uncomfortable tightness across his sinuses too, but he won't give Shuri the satisfaction of showing it.  
…............

T'Challa is supposed to be reading. 

The room is peaceful, lights dimmed and reflecting in the black marble floor as though in water. The large window that dominates the space shows a little of the vibranium mines but a filter lets in none of the noise. T'Challa is still finding it hard to concentrate. 

He rubs his hands above his cheekbones, trying to soothe the tighness there, then up to his temples. The screen he is studying blurs out as his eyes unfocus. Next moment they flutter shut entirely as he breathes an unhappy “-huh-” and sneezes hard towards his lap.

He shakes his head with cat-like frustration and barely has time for a breath before a second round, this time so many that he looses count along with his dignity.

When he raises his head he is no longer alone in the room. 

Nakia is in the doorway wth a little smile playing at the corner of her mouth. She wears a deep crimson, an island of warmth and colour against the clean lines of the study. 

T'Challa blinks at her, frozen as always by her beauty.

“The great black panther is taken by surprise!” She teases, moving intot he room. Then, more softly, “you don't look good at all.”

“Thank you very much.” He manages a mock smile but it turns into a fit of coughs.

Nakia melts towards him with a hand to rub at the plane of his back. T'Challa averts his face from her, going for an embrace rather an a kiss. He would die before he was ungentlemanly, and die twice before infecting her with whatever he appears to have caught. Luckily for him she accepts the movement and settles into the curve of his shoulder, familiar and yet electric.

“Hmph, you're nice and warm.” He murmurs into her neck. 

“It's not cold in here.” 

“I'm never cold when I'm close to you.” He tries to tease, but swats at him disbelievingly.

“Then why are you shivering?”

“I'm not –hh-” He drew back, raising a hand in polite warning as his brows arched in an urgent expresion. “-please-excuse-me--!" Another sharp sneeze.

“You are excused.” Nakia drew his back to her, taking both his hands. “And you are getting sick.”

“I'm-” T'Challa floundered. It was unusual in Wakanda, and especially unusual for the black panther.

“Say it.” His lover prompted, brow raised in mock-firmness.

He raised his hands in mock defeat. “Ok, ok, I'm getting sick. What's it to you?”

Nakia's answer was to raise the communicator on her wrist. A hologram of his sister Shuri blossomed out of it, holding a hand out to Nakia in the universal gesture of 'you owe me'.

“Did you make a bet?” T'Challa exclaims, half way between appalled and amused.

Nakia shruggs.

“I didn't think it was likely, with your powers and all. Shuri insisted to me that the Black Panther is after all just a man. Bless-” She adds premtively as he sneezes again. 

He touches a hand to his chest, wincing at the unaccustomed tightness. Nakia's fingers join his, soothing.

“I suppose you are not long dragged out of the Jabari snow pit, so I will let you off.” She murmurs fondly. “I expect we could find something warm and healing for you to drink.”

“That sounds perfect. If you can excuse my state, will you come with me?” T'Challa agrees.

“Of course I will.” She reaches forward and plants a light kiss on his lips before he can shy away. He loops his arm around her waist and allows her to guide him toward the door. The sensor lights dim automatically as they exit, leaving his desk in darkness. That can wait for another time.


End file.
